Page 25 of Love in Pieces

I don’t let myself look to see the sly smile undoubtedly coating her lips. “I’m not really in the mood. Sorry, Aubrey.”

“Awe, come on. It’s been a few days. I’ve got needs, too, you know? We could go to your place this time.” She cocks her head, giving me puppy dog eyes, and shoves her bottom lip out.

We always go to Aubrey’s place. I’ve never once brought her back to mine. Or any girl for that matter. She stopped asking to come to mine a while ago after months of getting the same answer. “Not tonight. I’ve got a lot on my mind.” I move around her, taking a stack of beer glasses with me to the dish station.

Thankfully, she doesn’t follow. She just watches me and gets back to her cleaning. But it doesn’t take long for her to pry again as we walk out of the building and are far enough from the listening ears of the owner.

“You really don’t want to come over tonight?” she asks, leaning her head on my shoulder as we walk.

“Sorry. Just not in the mood.”

Her next words come out in a sing-songy voice. “Come on, Dal. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” She winks, attempting a seductive look, and traces a finger across my chest.

“Not tonight. I’m going home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” As I make my way back to my car, her footsteps follow quickly behind me. I don’t bother turning around as I know that will only give her more ammo. I hit the unlock button on my key fob and reach for the door handle. Aubrey’s body quickly shields me from getting in. She’s unbuttoned her collared shirt farther, her cleavage on full display. She sticks her chest out before grabbing the front of my shirt and pulling me in for a kiss.

I take a step back and put a hand out. “Aubrey. I said no. I’m going home. Can I please get in?”

She hesitates but grumbles and moves to the side. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“Good night, Aubrey,” I reply as I lower myself into the driver’s seat. She doesn’t look happy, but that’s the least of my concerns right now. She’ll have to wait for another time.

When I arrive home, someone cries on the other side of my front door. Squeaky door hinges give me away when I push the handle. Rose sits on the couch, quickly wiping the tears off her cheeks.

“Woah, what’s wrong?” I ask, pulling her into a hug.

She sniffles, takes a few deep breaths to calm down, and grabs a tissue off the coffee table. “I’m just ... I’m trying to understand why he would ... What’s so great about her? What’s she got that Mom doesn’t?”

I chew on that a moment. I shift on the sofa, leaning back against the large gray cushion. “I don’t know. I wish I had an answer.” I pause, giving her the opportunity to keep talking, but she doesn’t. “I’ve been wondering the same thing. It’s been making me furious, to be honest.”

“Right?” she cuts in, following it up with a loud sniffle. She raises her voice, “I’m just so mad at him.”

“I know. I am, too.” Our parents have been married for almost thirty years. They waited a while to have kids as they were both still trying to advance their careers. My entire childhood is filled with good memories. My siblings and I knew they loved each other. They made sure we knew it, too. Never once did I question their dedication to each other.

That is until Cole died, and then a few weeks ago when I noticed they were being pretty distant and arguing more than usual. Because I don’t live at home anymore, I didn’t pick up on it as much as Rose did. She relayed a lot of information to me.

“Do you think they’ll work it out?” She turns to me with tear-filled eyes.

I purse my lips, thinking about how I want to answer this without sounding so pessimistic. “I’m not sure, Rose. I don’t know if this is something they can fix, or something they even want to fix. We don’t even know if he’s still seeing this other lady. Dad moved out, though, which is a big deal. My guess? Mom is over it. Not over the situation, but over the relationship. I’m not sure she wants to work this out with him. I wouldn’t want to. You know my history with cheaters. I don’t give second chances. If I were Mom, I wouldn’t give Dad a second chance.”

She grabs a fresh tissue as the tears start to flow again. “I ... I know. I just ... I was hoping ... hoping they would work it out,” she says through heavy sobs.

“I know.” I lean her head into the crook of my arm, letting her tears soak the fabric of my alcohol-pungent uniform. After a few minutes, she starts to calm down. The heavy breathing slows. The tears come to a stop. The muffled whimpers have quieted. Rose’s breathing is steady and resolute. She must be tired.

After helping her lay down on the couch and covering her with a blanket, I head to the bathroom for a shower. The hot water pounds on my chest, reverberating like the thundering chants of fans in the bleachers. I let it drown out my thoughts, not wanting to think about the chaos that surrounds my life. But it doesn’t take long for the concerns to seep back in. Worry for my mother as she struggles through the next phase of life. And worry for Abby as she navigates a highly abusive relationship. One that I hope is truly over. It seems to be a theme lately: relationships ending. They’re not exactly the most fun life decisions, but hopefully, they’re ones for the better. But those are choices only they can make.

As I step out of the shower, my phone, which was so gracefully balanced on the back of the toilet, vibrates and falls to the floor. I wrap the towel around my waist, securing the corner before bending to pick it up. It’s probably Aubrey still begging me to come over.

But what I find instead is a series of desperate texts from Abby, begging for help.

A: Please come over

Someone’s pounding on my door trying to get in

Apt 210

God please hurry

---